Moonlight Interludes
by micatite
Summary: Because destiny brings souls together time and again, but fate does not always play out the same hand. Makoto X Nephrite COMPLETE Now Rei X Jadeite! Pt. 2
1. Starlight Dance

She was luminous by starlight.

The conquering warlord, lazily sprawled in the chair, watched as the woman approached him silently, padding forward on bare feet. She was tall and slender, garbed in a gown of heavy pearlescent silk, which tied in a large bow beneath her breasts. A single creamy rose decorated the bow as anything more would have been too much like unnecessarily gilding a long, elegant lily.

Thick clouds of vibrant russet curls spilled down her back, caught back from her pale face by a veil of sheer white silk voile. Her eyes, green as a cat's, were shuttered, revealing but little of her thoughts. She was, he thought, not beautiful, but striking. Her bearing was regal, but, he reflected, that was only to be expected.

"Good evening, Princess." His husky voice openly mocked her title.

A sudden gust of wind billowed into the room through the open balcony doors. The acrid stench of battle filled the room with the bitterness of burning wood, the copper tang of blood, and the thick, malignant overlay of death and destruction. It mingled oddly with the pure, spicy scent of roses that surrounded her.

"Good? An unusual description, General."

"I suppose," he grunted, sipping his wine, "it _would_ depend on your point of view."

"Quite." She tried to look past the ruin of the formerly peaceful land that his prince's armies had laid waste to. She did not wish to remember it torn and violated as it now was.

Her clipped answer amused him. "You look lovely," he said surprising himself. She did…like an angel, pure and unsullied.

"Think you I care anything for the opinion or regard of…murderers? Barbarians? Savages?" The green cat's eyes gleamed in the dim light, flicking over his blood smeared armor, his burning sapphire gaze, his face with its cruel beauty of a fallen angel.

He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Her solemn gaze revealed nothing to him.

"If you're trying to insult me…" His voice held a warning note, which she ignored.

"Did you think your kind had a monopoly on handing them out, General?" she inquired, a touch of scorn entering her own voice as she used his title.

The Dragon General tamped down the initial flicker of rage, exercising a hard won self-control. She was, he decided abruptly, no angel, but a damned provoking witch. Interesting, though, a voice inside his head whispered.

"Your name, my lady?"

"You may call me Echo."

"That is not your name."

"It will do for your purposes," she replied coolly. "Names have power, you know. I do not expect you to give me yours either."

He had to acknowledge her point. "Very well, Echo of the East."

"Though if you must refer to _my_ kingdom, I had rather you simply address me as Princess."

"Your kingdom has fallen, my lady Echo. What need for titles now?"

She shrugged then, the simple gesture acquiescing to his will. It somehow soothed the ragged edges in him. "As you will."

"Finally a reasonable attitude, milady. I trust you will maintain it." He locked his gaze to hers, but she said nothing more, retreating into silence. In an effort to force a response, he continued. "The prince has given you to me."

He saw it then, the crackle of suppressed fury flashing for an instant in the liquid green depths of her gaze. It surprised him then to also see her ruthlessly restrain the reaction, schooling her face back into its impassive, ivory mask. He smirked. There was more here than met the eye, and he wanted to know it all.

Thunder rumbled outside the keep, winds swirling as storms gathered.

"How barbaric. I am no battle prize, General. No spoils of war to defile or carry off." Her voice was glacial. "Certainly not for the likes of you."

His eyes narrowed then, his temper sparked, along with other more 'earthy' things within him. He wanted the infuriating, proud woman. "Come here."

She came, standing in front of him where he sat. Her manner had become, if possible, more regal and haughty, queenly. It made him want to pull her down and see if he could un-stiffen her rigid spine with a kiss…or more. His blood heated. Much more.

He caught her chin in his hand, drawing her between his knees, so close that his mahogany locks tumbled against the hand she held over her breast. Off balance, she braced herself with her free hand on the arm of his chair.

"You will be mine, Princess," he informed her cruelly, his voice roughening. "Your continued health and well being depends on my good will. You'd be far better off, milady, seeking to stay on my good side."

"I've seen no evidence yet, sir," she hissed, "that you have one."

That retort got her wrist locked in a steely, bruising grip, and she let out a stifled yelp of pain. He got a certain grim satisfaction from seeing her instinctive jump backward restrained by his hand. His fingers loosened a hairsbreadth, relieving the bone-cracking pressure, but leaving her still quite effectively chained.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows. Thunder rumbled again. A few raindrops spattered into the dust as the storm broke. The fresh smell of the driving rain forced down the smells of war and dying beneath its vital power.

"By the gods, you're stubborn, woman." He could hardly believe that she would keep testing him, in her position. He could kill her or make her life a living hell, and yet she was daring to treat him like less than the lowliest servant who would scrub out the garderobes. "You'll fight me to the last ditch, won't you?"

She smiled then, a tight, wicked smile, and the light flashed again in her eyes. Her lips were inches from his as she murmured, "Of course."

His smile was mocking, twisted and his blue eyes were dark now, almost black, with mingled anger and lust. He almost hated her at that moment for making him feel, for jolting him out of the ennui that had previously only left him in mortal combat. "I'll enjoy breaking you, vixen. You'll scream for me."

"What a charmingly vulgar suggestion, milord. I would have expected nothing less, but I'm afraid I really must decline." The mocking lilt was back in her husky voice.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, witch woman?"

The beguiling scent of roses and spice, the scent of her, enfolded them both. He could practically hear her heart beating and he shifted uncomfortably, feeling himself thicken.

"Who do you think I am, General?" Her haunting, catlike gaze was intent now, not letting him look away, even if he had wanted to do so.

"A Princess," he replied, though his instinctive answer was 'Mine!'

She smiled mysteriously. "I'm more than that…"

Her lips ghosted across his. Light flared on her forehead, blinding him. His blank eyes widened in shock, then in pain as she, quick as a wink, slammed the lethally sharp tip of the rose she'd worn into the top of his sword hand until her own flattened against him. It pierced flesh and dug into the wood of the chair below it, pinning him there. Had he not been wearing his chest plate, it would have been in his heart instead.

Blood, red as wine, spattered on the floor.

As her palm touched the back of his hand, he went rigid as her power hit him in a burst of sparks and white light, brighter than stars. He could feel the jolt knock him back in the chair. His ears rang, his muscles spasmed, and for an instant his vision turned completely black. In the shock of the moment, his lock on her wrist loosened, and she sprang away.

A laughing, teasing note came into her voice as she heard him curse in outrage at her daring. "And now, I must take my leave. Fare thee well, my General," she said blowing him a taunting kiss and giving him a cheeky wink.

In a flash she vaulted over the edge of the balcony, her skirts fanning out as she went. He could hardly believe he'd witnessed it. He waited, heart in his throat, expecting to hear the crash of a body breaking below. To his disbelief, he heard only a soft thump and splash followed by the soft sound of feet running away fast. In outrage he threw back his head and roared, the cry of an animal deprived of its rightful prey. She'd escaped!

Her fleeing aroused every one of his predatory instincts. He would truly beat the witchy-eyed hellcat black and blue for such a violation, he thought, and then he would take her and begin breaking her spirit to his will! How dared she run from him?!

Ripping his hand free, he was heedless of the fact that he spilled more of his blood in the process. In a fury, he crushed the delicate yet dangerous blossom and leapt to his feet. His boots rang on the tiles as he pounded after her, exiting as she had, over the balcony into the driving rain.

He hit the ground with a loud thump and splash. The pouring rain immediately drenched him to the bone. Eyes narrowed, he surveyed the scene through the rain and storm. Where would she have gone to run, to hide? He knew it in an instant…the oaks. But he also knew he would have give chase immediately or she'd disappear into the night entirely. That would be unacceptable.

The warlord plunged into the thick woods after the princess, ignoring the increasing storm. In her white gown she would shine like a beacon, leading him straight to her. However, he did not expect that the very woods would fight against him. Branches dragged at his cape, slowing him. Thick gnarled roots seemed to rise up under his boots to trip him. Brush barred his path at every turn, causing him to lose precious time. Everywhere he could smell the scent of rain and storm and wild roses. He could hear the soft sound of her delighted laughter, taunting him like the echo she'd called herself.

She was glorying in the storm and the woods. Her own elemental powers sang with recognition. She was in her elements, one with them. The rain was a baptism, the thunder a benediction. The thickets seemed to bend and bow before her, allowing her easy passage in her flight. Their goddess held sway over them and blessed them with her joy.

By Jove, the bitch could run like a hart, he thought as, with the next flash of lightning he caught the faintest glimpse of a supple, white clad figure slipping through the woods with the ease of a ghost. She was already close to the far edge of the woods, moving fast, but headed for where?

The Temple of Selene!

She could not be allowed to reach that temple! The priestesses there held power of sanctuary for any maiden who asked, and no man could enter the place. Protected by the goddess, if she entered that sacred space, she would be lost to him forever. He had to stop her before she reached the temple!

Time seemed to stretch out eternally as he pelted after her. The woods began to thin, and he stretched his stride, racing after the fleeing princess. The rain slackened and finally ceased altogether, and he spotted her.

The oak woods ended near a large field, at the end of which sat the marble walls of the Temple of Selene. The princess' feet flew. If she did not reach its succor, she was lost. She could hear him behind her clearly, though she wasted no time in backward glances.

The dark lord smiled grimly as he noted the skies beginning to clear, letting the stars again shine through. His power would be waxing as hers would be waning. She would be his…he could feel it. But it would be a near thing.

It was about fifty yards from the temple that he snared her, catching the flying hem of her skirt and yanking her backward. "You're mine now!"

She screamed as she stumbled backward, then shocked him by whirling about, using his action and her momentum to launch an offensive attack that he'd never have expected. The much abused silk of her skirts shredded, falling away, leaving her free to fight, him to gawk.

Gawk, that is, until the first punch hit him. His head rocked back on his neck as the princess clouted him.

He dropped back into a fighting stance. It shouldn't have been a contest, even though he had no weapons on him, but it was. The fact that he outweighed her and had longer arms and legs seemed to be offset by the sheer unpredictability of her movements and the fact that he didn't particularly want to hurt her, just contain her. She was under no such restrictions. She was everywhere and nowhere, moving all the time, as hard to anticipate as trying to predict when and where lightning would next strike. And she wasn't afraid to fight dirty.

Her only goal was to win; she would not withdraw. She was well and truly furious about the fate of the kingdom, and wanted to take out her temper on someone, anyone responsible for its fall. He was the only one near enough, and he'd do, even if a tiny traitorous part of her found it a shame to damage such a pretty face. The weakness implicit in that fleeting thought only infuriated her more.

The princess didn't speak, but snarled, leaping on him, raking at his eyes with clawed fingers. The act would have been a terrible female cliché, if she hadn't followed it up with a vicious elbow jab to the throat and a knee to his solar plexus.

Warrior. He now realized what she'd meant when she'd said she was more. She was a trained warrior woman. And it was clear that she was loving every moment of the hand-to-hand battle. Her witchy green eyes now glittered like dark emeralds, full of the light of battle. She was actually smiling as she kicked out at him and he danced back and cursed.

He swore again, more viciously as he saw the green light flare on her forehead and heard the crackle between her fingertips. The stench of ozone filled his nostrils and he saw nothing but the burst of white lightning.

"I really must go now," she murmured, as she planted her hands, full of storm, on his chest and kicked out, knocking his legs out from under him as he twitched. He dropped like a stone.

"That was for the kingdom."

She sprinted for the temple, tripping on the stairs as she went. Her run turned into a diving roll as she burst into the antechamber and slid into the white marble wall with a bruising crash. She could feel the tears running down her face as she realized she was finally safe. Sore, scratched, cold, wet and muddy, perhaps, but safe, and victorious in this last small battle. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do. Laughter gurgled out of her in reaction. The man would be furious when he recovered.

He was.

She picked herself up and looked back, seeing him racing toward the temple, skidding to a halt at the top of the marble stairs. "Get out here," he snarled, nearly incoherent with rage. "NOW!"

The walking tempest of a lightning wielding witch, barely covered in the tattered remnants of her gown, was laughing at him. She was entirely beyond his reach now, lost to him, and they both knew it. "You're mine."

Her laughter turned almost into hysterics, drawing from him a glare of outrage at her audacity. She spun around, grinned at him challengingly, scooping up a full, blooming rose the color of a maiden's blush from an offering to the goddess. She tossed it to him as reward for a battle well fought, if not won, and without thinking, he caught it, his hand tightening crushingly on the stem. It was all he would have of her…for he did not even know her true name. The stars laughed at him also, but he saw only the light in her eyes. As Verity disappeared from his sight within the white marble walls of the temple, her voice echoed back to him, insubstantial and haunting.

"Not in this lifetime, General..."

(Note: See Ranma-chan's gown from Nihao My Concubine movie for picture of what the princess' dress and veil are like)

Please note that I own none of the Sailor Moon characters. Please don't sue. Standard disclaimers apply. :)


	2. Starlight Moment

She is luminous by starlight.

Her chestnut curls have fanned across the pillow like a waterfall. Impossibly long eyelashes now hide from him the sparkling emerald eyes of his love. She is asleep in his arms, energy spent, completely at peace. Her face is flushed and soft. Her lips, swollen from his attentions, are tipped up at the ends in a smile that even utter exhaustion cannot take from her.

They lie there together, him spooned behind her, their legs intertwined. He smoothes a hand over her soft cheek in a gentle caress before reaching down to interlace his fingers with his. He cannot help but take delight in seeing the band of gold and gemstone on her hand. It is a token of a promise not yet fulfilled, but brimming with hope.

It still fills him with wonder that she accepted him. How is it possible, that a princess could want a commoner like him? Could love him as he does her?

His lips curve and he brushes a kiss to her ear, breathing in the sweet scent of roses that he now associates only with her, and drawing a soft murmur of contentment from her, though she does not wake. Her answer to his question would be simple and self-mocking. She's a lousy princess. She is wrong, though, he knows. She can be regal when she needs to be. And much more.

He did not fall in love with her at first sight. Quite the opposite, actually.

He'd stolen through the farthest gate, seeking his prince, and been promptly knocked on his backside by a blow he'd never seen coming. He could only assume she'd thought him a spy or assassin out to kill her princess, but he wasn't sure, since he'd learned better than to ask her about it again. Rightly assuming himself under attack, he'd gone after her. Their short-lived battle had been like a warrior's dance, with neither one able to gain the upper hand and neither willing to bow out.

The Moon Princess and Earth Prince had come running at the sounds of combat, their shocked cries breaking up the scuffling of their respective guardians.

He'd laughed then, and said something mocking about hot headed people who assumed too much and thought too little. Her face went crimson then with mingled rage and humiliation, she'd used a foul phrase he'd never before heard from a woman's lips, and she'd decked him before stalking away, leaving the Moon Princess to apologize and try to pour oil on trouble waters and his prince to help him back to his feet.

She has a mouth on her sometimes, his beloved does, and a passionate temper to match his own, though much quicker to rise.

He didn't see her until the next day, she having made a very clear point of not attending the formal presentation where he and his fellow Shitennou and the Earth Prince were introduced. A woman's pride can be a fierce thing, and she is proud. It's part of both the princess and the warrior in her.

He did not see her the next morning either, though he now knew whom she was, the princess of Jupiter. He actually stumbled across her in the kitchens when he and Jadeite decided to sneak a bit more of the incredible pastries they'd eaten to break their fast before their very early scheduled training. Mischievous Jadeite had suggested the mission, but he'd thought it a great idea, and agreed. Half the fun and most of the challenge was in escaping from Kunzite's notice.

They'd managed to sneak away with some difficulty, and a promise to bring Zoisite some as well, for covering for their absences. He'd expected Jadeite to have to sweet talk one of the cooks. His partner's brash, swaggering charm and blond good looks worked wonders in such cases, usually, but instead they'd found the kitchens seemingly empty.

He'd snagged a cream and jam filled tart and been bringing it to his lips when the pantry door opened, he'd heard a soft gasp, and he and Jadeite had frozen guiltily, caught red handed by a pair of quick green eyes. He'd been so surprised at seeing her walk in toting a mixing bowl, her silk gown swathed in an apron, that he'd missed his mouth entirely when he'd tried to hastily swallow the evidence of his crime.

A pretty picture he'd made then, whipped cream and sweet jam on his nose, the very picture of guilt. Jadeite had laughed out loud, even as he'd blatantly, shamelessly pocketed another two sweet buns and popped a cream horn in his mouth.

The Jovan princess' eyes had sparkled with mirth as she began to giggle. She'd clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but it had to come out and she finally laughed as heartily as Jadeite had, shoulders shaking, then passed him an olive branch in the form of her handkerchief.

She'd had him when he heard her laugh. Though the plate of pastries she'd packed him off with didn't hurt either.

At that night's gala he'd searched for her and she for him.

When she caught his eye, she'd flashed him a merry smile, clearly recalling the shared memory of him decked out in jam and cream. If not for the smile, he would have been truly irked. But that smile lit up her whole face until she glowed like a star just for him. Because of him.

That's when he'd fallen for her. Hard.

Jadeite, of course, noticed it right off. He'd elbowed Zoisite and commented how unusual it was for their friend to take his head out of the stars and take interest in more 'earthy' matters. He made a mental note to kill, at first opportunity, both Jadeite and Zoisite. But especially Jadeite, who'd all but cackled at the blush he'd brought up on his pal's cheeks.

She'd approached them without any of the simpering coyness that tended to irritate him in other maidens. Holding out her hand, she swept him out onto the dance floor without a word. A jolt, not unlike an electrical current, shivered up his spine at the touch of her hand on his own and his hand on her slim waist. The color in her face seemed to indicate that she felt it too.

That first dance had lead to another and another. He had been quite unreasonably vexed when she left his side to perform the duty dances that protocol required, even when her partner was his own prince. Still, she always returned to him with that secret smile that he now wanted to claim for his own. It would be like holding starlight in his hands.

Evening's end found them alone on a secluded terrace beneath the stars and the full Earth. Quite unexpectedly she turned and snatched a quick, unsatisfying kiss from him.

He stared at her, amazed, and she blushed faintly beneath his frank gaze.

"One small theft for another, my lord Nephrite," she muttered, her boldness failing her. Embarrassed, she'd swung away, tightening her hands on the railing that overlooked the garden walk, looking out blindly into the night.

"Princess…" he'd started to speak when she shook her head, her upswept curls falling forward to hide her face while they bared the vulnerable nape of her graceful neck .

"I…" She couldn't think of how to apologize for her unbecoming forwardness.

"Juno," he'd said the, exercising a rather shocking boldness of his own in using her given name without leave, "do not. There was only one thing for which you might have need to apologize."

"And what sir, might that be?" She could not face him.

"Not letting _this_ be our first kiss."

Taking matters into his own hands, he drew her into a close embrace and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Her arms slid up of their own accord to loop around his neck and his hands burrowed into her silky hair to hold her as the heat flared between them and they kissed each other quite breathless.

When a lack of oxygen forced them to part, they'd stepped back, gasping slightly, unable to take their eyes off of one another. Finally she'd said softly and with true sincerity, "I do humbly apologize, my lord Nephrite. You were quite right. The second was much more…" Scarlet color suffused her cheeks as she broke off, and he'd laughed, spinning her around in his arms as if in a waltz.

He'd begun inviting himself along on her morning rides. She'd engineered it so that she could observe his combat training sessions. They managed to meet by 'accident' in the halls too many times to recall. They waltzed at the nightly galas and, far from the palace, watched shooting stars wheel through the night skies. Sweet embraces and passionate encounters followed as surely as night follows day.

Their liaison was the worst kept secret in the entire Silver Millennium.

It was a scandal, certain parties whispered, that the Terran dared to court, however clandestinely, a princess of the realm. He'd smiled smugly at that. He'd done far more than court her and she'd been with him every step of the way. She'd accepted him in her life, her bed, her heart and then gladly accepted his ring when he'd asked.

She has promised to speak to the lunar queen and her own royal parents at first opportunity, to secure the necessary permission for them to wed. She says it will not be forbidden, for is he not now all but a king in his own land. She swears she will wed no other than her king, for that is the right of every princess. Even the oldest fairy stories say so, and love will conquer all.

But no fairy tale, however beautiful, can last forever. Rumors of unrest and tumult have begun to make their way to the Moon. The kingdom's glitter is drawing those who wish to destroy beauty in a lust for power. Blood has already been spilled. And he has been called to fight in the battle. It is his duty, but he will do it for her, to secure her peace. Then he will return to her, his Juno.

If he returns to her. Or she to him.

A frown mars the chiseled planes of his handsome face as he presses an urgent kiss to her bare shoulder. Now that passion has been spent, he cannot help but brood over what he saw in the night sky before they retired. It makes his blood run cold, though he did not tell her of what he saw, not wanting to spoil their last night together before he must leave for battle.

All his divination training and learning have taught him one thing. The stars do know everything, but tonight all he can do is hold her and pray that he and they are wrong. For when he attempted to ask if she would survive the coming darkness to live with him and be his love, they gave him the one answer he never wanted to find and cannot accept.

Not in this lifetime, General…


	3. Starlight Inamorata: Starcrossed?

She always was luminous by starlight.

I think of her often. My princess, my senshi, my lover, my beloved. She is the other half of my soul. She haunts my dreams, both day and night.

I missed her in my last lifetime. The timing was off, a fortunate thing for her. I died before I saw her and I thank the stars for that. She was too young and innocent, not even come into her own power yet, and I'd have broken her then, without a qualm, or at least corrupted her.

A senshi's soul shines, brighter than other souls, but that brilliance will always call out to those whose spirits are dark. They cannot stand the brilliance, illuminating their sins, so they have to try to destroy it somehow. Her light would have drawn me then…it always did before, brilliant as the brightest stars in the heavens. Perhaps fate knew better, saving her from the likes of the me I was before by making sure our paths could not cross.

A smaller, less brilliant, but steady light in her image helped me to find my humanity again before I passed.

I suppose I should introduce myself. In my last two abortive lifetimes I have been known as Nephrite, so I suppose, for lack of anything better, I will stick with that. After all, names are given when you're born, and at least in this most recent life, I wasn't born. I just was…am…and I am still not sure why except that she asked it of me.

I was dead. I was used to it. But I'm not dead anymore.

I don't understand why I have my memories of my last two lifetimes either. Almost everyone is born and dies and is reborn, but memories are expunged in the process, allowing a soul to move on, unhindered by past baggage. Perhaps then, I have kept them because the powers that be feel that it is important that I remember. But I don't know, because the universe is sometimes frighteningly vague that way.

I'm used to that too. Such is the astrologer's way of life.

Or was. The stars used to talk to me, sing to me, whisper their secrets. The stars know everything. I could read in the cosmos glimpses of pathways that had yet to be taken. They were my guides in the uncertain places. But since my resurrection they have not spoken to me. Not once. I can still see their light, feel their resonance, hear their songs, but the meaning is barred from me. I can't tell you how alone that makes me feel.

Perhaps it is part of my penance for my past misdeeds. Or perhaps they just feel that this time I need to do this on my own. My former comrades, who always complained that I was vague and never gave a straight answer to a question, would be highly amused at this turn of events. Especially Jadeite. He always was impatient with what he called my, "obscure crap."

In any case, I was dead. One of my own friends, former friends, killed me in a move to secure power. It didn't surprise me then, and I understand it now. Such things were par for the course in the Dark Kingdom. It was kill or be killed, tooth and claw, devil take the hindermost all the time. It made it easier for Beryl to keep us all in line. If you can't trust your compatriots, you won't plot with them against her.

Beryl was the Earth Magus who unleashed the power of the demon Metallia upon the world, not once but twice. The first time she used it to warp and twist me and my friends, Endymion's Shitennou, the Four Heavenly Kings. In her jealousy over the Moon Princess having secured the Earth Prince's love, she set in motion the chain of events that would destroy one of the brightest lights that this arm of the cosmos has ever seen.

We Shitennou were abducted and tortured, then exposed to Metallia her…itself. How to describe Metallia? Foul. Perverse. Evil. All of the above and much, much more. We were broken, from the honorable men we had been, and reworked in accordance with Beryl's wishes, twisted and rotten. She made us, then used us as her weapon. Without mercy or regrets we attacked an innocent kingdom, murdered and destroyed. We even attacked and slaughtered those we loved best, our prince and our sweethearts…and took pleasure in the doing.

They fought back against us, of course, and they were strong. But they were hindered by the hope that we might, with enough time, recover ourselves. They didn't want to hurt us. We were under no such constraints. We saw only the enemy through Beryl's eyes.

It now makes me physically nauseous to think how I tormented her. My lady. She was beautiful and kind and loved me with all her heart. Under Metallia's influence, those things, the things I loved her for, burned me. Her light called attention to my gathering darkness, so I had to destroy it and with it, her.

She defended herself ably, but I was stronger. Reluctant to lash out with her most lethal powers, I had the upper hand and I knew it. For my own amusement I played with her, my cat to her mouse. And then that night that the Silver Millennium fell, I murdered her, reveling in the scarlet haze of blood and smoke. Like blowing out a candle, and with no more remorse.

Not that I got away unscathed, however. That was the first time I remember dying. With Juno's last agonizing breath she heroically attempted to do two things, carry out her sworn duty to protect her princess and to free me from Metallia. They both came to the same thing. She killed me, her elemental power given life in the form of a dragon of storm, searing the flesh from my bones and setting my spirit free in a blaze of her light. It was swift and merciful, far kinder than her own death had been. It was done with love.

I could feel her spirit kiss mine as she passed, winging her way to the next life. If mine had been able, it would have wept in gratitude. I knew what it had cost her. She always was stronger than I.

That was the first time I fully remember.

Death and rebirth and death and rebirth again. It's a carousel of lives with no way to get off the ride, even if you wanted to. However, I cannot curse it, for it gave her and my prince and those I had wronged the chance to live again. Even one whose soul is as sin laden as mine is granted second chances.

After the Dark Kingdom and my ignominious death I remained in the spirit realm, watching a world that I was no longer a part of. Beryl had claimed that my soul would always be hers, no matter how many lifetimes found me and my brethren reborn. I no longer believe this…she always was a queen of lies. But I believed it then and stayed as far as possible from that bright light that called me to a new life. I was not worthy of it.

While I watched and waited, Jupiter's power awakened in Kino Makoto. The force of it drew me like a lodestone. Her power is intense, passionate and tempestuous always. She was never aware of it, but I hovered as near her as I could, unseen. Not that I was the guardian angel that is spoken of, but I merely basked in her light and nearness, finding what small comfort I could in the mere fact that, in spite of me and my damned brothers, she lived.

It is said that hell is the absence of hope. I had no hope then and resigned myself to enduring my existence, whatever it was, in this state of limbo, not alive nor yet exactly fully dead, and without the chance to touch her again. It was hell, but one I had fully earned.

It was from this point that I saw her grow and mature…and die. I watched her and her friends, filled with a determination that outstripped their years, march off to battle Beryl and my spirit wanted to gnaw fingernails I no longer possessed for I knew far better than they the price that they would likely pay. My fears were justified. She was the first to die, trying to save an innocent…but being snared by an illusion. Still, she wouldn't have had it any other way than going out fighting. Even as her spirit ebbed away, she, without exactly phrasing it so, demanded the others continue the fight so that her sacrifice would not be in vain. Her last words were to hearten her beloved princess. Then the light in her eyes was extinguished again.

For an eternal moment I saw her spirit again, whole and proud and blazing with light, and sometimes I fancy she saw me, but I cannot swear to it. I dared not approach. My fears were paralyzing. Those who think death grants wisdom or understanding are wrong…it is for this reason that restless spirits walk. They seek the knowledge that eluded them in life and in death.

Without warning the world exploded again with the power of the ginzuishou and a child's wish for those she loved, and she was gone again while I remained. The light beckoned again, but again I remained.

She and her friends continued their battle. It was always something, always someone. They never shirked. My admiration for her grew, for I was able to see facets of her that I had never witnessed before. Her sweetness and compassion in counterpoint to her strength; her whimsical side; the tears she cried when no one else could see and the determination to soldier on through them; her desire to mother those around her, even her plants; and her stubborn insistence on going her own way, no matter the cost, to remain true to herself and her conscience. She was well named in this lifetime, for she is nothing if not sincere in everything she does.

Which sparks a vague fragment of memory. A sense of intense frustration that's to do with her. I have, wispy and insubstantial, the image of her eternally emerald eyes laughing at me and her proffering a flower. For some reason I can only think of Echo, but for some reason I also know that's not right. She was Verity.

The illusory memory is bitter and incomplete, not even half formed, and I let it fall away. I don't want to know if I wronged her in another life I can't even fully remember. For I can no longer be paralyzed by guilt if I am to be of any use to her or my prince.

I saw her fall in love time and again and wondered that the idiot males who now populated the Earth could not recognize her for the goddess she was, is and ever will be. Even I, who sometimes seem eternally pitted against her, wasn't THAT blind. Only one ever seemed to truly see her, a boy with golden brown hair and soft eyes. The boy with the umbrella. His love was different from what she so often sought, familial perhaps, or fraternal. But it was also sustaining. If I ever meet him, I will thank him for supporting and sheltering her when I could not.

She is on the carousel of lives also, for she died once more and I could only watch it happen. She and her sisters, for that is truly what the senshi are to one another, hurled themselves into the line of fire, taking an attack meant for others. She always did what she could to shield the innocents.

I remember being infuriated to the point of irrationality that she was dead again, her precious star seed stolen. Had I hands to grasp with, I would have throttled her princess on the spot. And in the midst of my rage I felt a light touch me. An incorporeal hand took mine and I felt the spark of an angel. A tender yet wry non-voice rocked me with just two words.

I chose.

She always had chosen. And she would choose to fight and die a thousand times if it would save a single innocent life. Some guardian angels are warriors and she is one of them. With that simple understanding my rage evaporated as if it had never been.

She held me and completed me until she was called away again. My essence screamed out for her as she slipped my ghostly grasp and entered the light to rejoin her princess, to assume her duty. And I heard her laughter echoing back to me in a moment that was terrifyingly familiar for reasons I do not recall.

Then I heard her voice once more, soothing and guiding me.

Embrace the light.

I could no longer resist the pull and let myself be pulled into the warm radiance of eternity. Still, I balked. I did not want to part with her spirit and I heard her again as I fought my tiny rebellion at the last.

Trust me.

I will...

I awoke on the cold, hard, dew-soaked ground before dawn and had I not already been lying down, would have fallen down at the shock of having a physical being again. I had been resurrected.

My first thought was to seek the stars, but they held no answers for me. I could not even find meaning in their questions. Death itself was less scary than being reborn into this life alone, but I refused to despair. I would not break my unspoken promise to her. If my fellow Shitennou have been reborn, I do not know of it. Yet I soon heard whispers of her, despite being half a world away from her. For the senshi are nothing if not eternal.

No photos of Jupiter's senshi exist. If anyone else knows her true identity, they will not speak of it. Yet I know she exists. I even have a tiny painting, an unknown artist's rendering of a goddess of storm. Whoever the artist was, he or she was amazingly talented. For the artist caught a bit of her essence, if not her exact figure. She is pale and radiant, glowing luminous against darkness. I have carried the portrait with me over my heart for the last seven years as a talisman of sorts through my travels. It speaks to me as my friends, the stars, no longer will.

She is twenty-three now.

I pray I will see her this time.

For the past seven years I have struggled to make a new life for myself. I have trained and studied, reshaping weak flesh, muscle, bone, mind and soul into that which may be of some small service to my prince, whom I know also exists. For several months ago word finally traveled to the tiny, remote monastery where I have spent the last five years. A new order has come to pass and brought with it the birth of new city of purest crystal built on the sight of old Elysion. It was the sign for which I had waited.

My brave prince is now a king. His gentle princess is now a queen. And her senshi, as ever, protect, eternally vigilant. My sweet, strong Jupiter is with them.

The path was clear. What remained for me to do was complete my tasks for the monastery, bid my goodbyes, and then begin my journey to face them to receive judgment. I trust in Endymion to decide what my fate shall be. I will not expect mercy, but rather, simple justice. I do not know if he will even see me, but I must trust, as she asked me to. And if I am lucky, whatever my fate, I will see her again and be able to tell her that I do love her.

She fights always for love and strength. Perhaps she will fight for me…for us.

I've shouldered my rucksack and I'll risk one last glance at the night sky before I start this final journey homeward. For if the stars will not grant me guidance or absolution, they may grant me hope.

Perhaps in this lifetime, General…


	4. Starlight Future: Epilogue

"What are their names?"

I breathe a heavy sigh and step forward to face the news cameras, gingerly holding my burden. It is tiny and fragile and I feel more awkward than I have in years. What if I drop her? What if she cries? What if?

Her hand steals around and grasps the one that is not fully occupied, lifting it to her lips where she brushes a soft kiss over the hammered gold band there. I feel instantly more at ease and she smiles encouragingly at me. "Go on and tell them, love. We're with you."

She can feel my slight hesitation and squeezes my hand gently, amusement and love lighting her eyes as she whispers, "Trust me."

Tucking her smaller hand in my own, I pull her forward and we step together into the rose garden and the brilliant light of media flashbulbs.

I glance down the pink blanket-wrapped angel in the crook of my arm and cannot help but smile goofily, love-sick. The infant with the downy fuzz of russet hair yawns and I am nearly struck dumb with the realization of how lucky I truly am.

The sweet babe's adored twin, also swathed in pink, blinks up at me with sleepy star sapphire eyes from where she lies cradled protectively in her precious mother's arm.

Hitching my daughter up higher, I open my mouth to speak, then glance over at Makoto, who graces me with a serene smile and an impish twinkle in her evergreen eyes that makes the breath catch in my throat and forces me to try again. "I…I am proud to present the future of the royal line of Jupiter…Princess Mica Juno and her twin sister, Princess Verity Rose.

Flashbulbs explode like skyrockets, dazzling my eyes and questions erupt from every direction. But one in particular slithers into my hearing and very nearly poisons the moment.

"Do you wish that you'd had a son, Lord Nephrite?"

The nerve of it!

The unmitigated gall, by Gaia!

I glare daggers at the hapless reporter, who withdraws to a safer distance, holding up a hand as if to erase the memory of the impudent enquiry or to fend me off. One of the other reporters to the royal court smacks him with a steno book, knocking his hat and press badge to the ground along with his glasses.

It is truly insulting to my wife, my daughters, and me. For who could love any boy more than I do my darling, blue-eyed daughters who have the gorgeous dark cinnamon-hued hair of their adored mother? It is an absurd question.

Makoto laughs softly, soothing my raised hackles with a gentle hand on the back of my neck, and I hear her throaty murmur low so that only I can hear her.

"Perhaps next time, General."


	5. Flame Invoked

She would be his by day's end.

The Phoenix General urged his horse forward, setting a faster pace at the thought, heedless of the blazing summer sun overhead. It brought him no end of satisfaction to know that his hunt would soon come to a successful end. The Princess of the Southern Kingdom would be his, as she had been meant to be. A princess of each kingdom had been given by the prince to each of his victorious generals as spoils of the battle won.

The princesses, it seemed though, had different ideas.

He still couldn't believe that four simple women, nobly birthed and gently reared, could have slipped through their fingers so seemingly easily. But when his forces had finally breached her keep's walls, he found only an empty bedchamber, a haunting hint of exotic perfume, and a portrait of a hauntingly beautiful woman with raven's wing hair, ruby lips, and dark violet eyes which seemed to mock him with what he could not have.

His hand tightened harshly on the reins, making his horse start and whicker anxiously. Grimly he brought it back into line, soothing the high-strung animal. He was not, he reminded himself, the only one who had faced such a situation.

Glancing sideways at his dark haired, dark eyed traveling companion, he frowned in concern. His fellow warrior, the Dragon General, was the only one of them who had actually come face to face with his given princess, the heir to the Eastern kingdom's throne, and still she'd escaped, wounding him in the process.

Knowing first hand the other man's impressive skills, he could only wonder at what could have transpired to have that happen. Yet, the other man had refused to say, even to their prince, simply withdrawing into a dangerous brooding state, exploding into temper at the slightest provocation. He only seemed to come alive in those moments of rage or when he sighted an auburn-haired or green eyed wench, though he never seemed to find the one that he was searching for, which would again sink him into the morass of depression.

That had been one of the reasons for bringing him along. The prince had insisted that his Phoenix not go unaccompanied and directed that the Dragon go with him. The Phoenix General knew it was not for his protection, but for the Dragon's distraction. He could only hope it would work, though things were not looking well. He seemed to be growing darker and more bitter with each league they traveled toward the Temple of Selene.

The place where his quarry had hidden herself away.

It had been weeks before his spies were able to find out where the princess had fled, so thoroughly had she covered her trail. And even then she had been out of his reach. But the dark-haired princess' portrait had strangely affected him, weaving a sort of perverse enchantment that brought to mind witches. He had immediately begun searching how to bring her out of hiding with only one thought. She would be his.

Now, he thought, watching as the imposing white marble walls came into view, his time of waiting was about to come to an end.

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"You don't have to do this, you know, Flame."

The former Divinity, Princess of the Southern lands, her dark locks and amethyst eyes hidden beneath the ceremonial cloak, glanced upward at her imposing friend, who was hovering protectively close, as if she could fend off the threat through sheer force of will. The woman's green eyes snapped and glittered with a barely suppressed wrath when Flame simply answered, "You know I must."

"It's indecent!" growled the other woman, bristling and pacing around the temple's anteroom. "Barbarous!"

"Don't worry," Flame assured her solemnly, placing a hand on her friend's arm. "He can't keep me for long, I assure you. I thank you for accompanying me, Terra."

The mighty auburn-haired woman's eyes softened from those of an angry mother bear to those simply of a mother and she hugged the petite woman fiercely. "I couldn't let you face it alone, even if I can only safely go as far as the steps. I only wish I could spare you having to go at all."

"You know that our lives mean nothing next to those of our people," chided Flame with unusual gentleness for her. The former eastern princess, simply nodded, acknowledging the truth of her friend's words. "And he," continued Flame, making an expressive shrug, "is family. So I go."

"I thank Selene that I have no one they can use against me as they have used your kinsman. Be on your guard, Flame. They are dangerous, dangerous men." Terra pressed a delicately carved decorative wooden pendant into Flame's hand. "Take this and use it only if you must. You know what it contains, so be careful."

The soft trip-trap of approaching horses' hooves made both women go silent and statue still. Flame tied the pendant around her neck by its leather thong and nodded to Terra. Forcing themselves into motion, they went, each step as measured and melancholy as a funereal march.

Flame dared not stop until she reached the edge of the top step. If she had, she was afraid that she would have given into her fears and run for the temple's most holy inner sanctum where the sacred flame burned, never to come forth again. And if that had happened, the old priest would die. She could not let it happen, so she went to face her destiny.

Very reluctantly, she was forced to conclude that, for all that he was a wretched blackmailer, he was sinfully handsome. His short blond hair, she could see, gleamed like the rich golden wheat in the fields around the temple and he was cloaked in the scarlet of her people. Flame wrinkled her nose at that. The presumption of his act was not lost on her, nor the message it contained. All that should have been hers, including her very self, was now his. Arrogant bastard! He had not come alone either, traveling with a retinue of his soldiers and another man, garbed in blue, whom she knew only through Terra's description of her escape through the storms.

Evidently Terra recognized the other man too, for beside her Flame could feel the tall woman stiffen and heard the sound of her sharply indrawn breath as the man with the long mahogany hair drew forward riding a fine chestnut steed.

The blond warrior cantered his horse forward to the very foot of the gleaming marble steps. Two women in white, their faces hidden in the depths of their hoods, stood at the top. He wondered which was his.

"Princess Divinity..."

Flame slowly lowered the hood of her stainless cape. A sudden gust of wind caught her hair, making it flutter like a banner of black silk. "I was once she whom you now call. My name is now, by Selene's grace, Flame."

With a jerk of the general's head, the prisoner to be exchanged, bound and gagged, was brought forward. Flame heard her friend's growl and placed a calming hand on her arm. "Peace, Terra."

"War, more like," hissed the other woman almost inaudibly. "Curse them all."

The corners of Flame's lips twitched. The woman had read her mind, or so it seemed.

The blond general spoke, his voice ringing through the brittle silence. "We had an agreement, princess. Your freedom for the prisoner's. When I have you he will be released unharmed to go his own way."

Again Flame found herself engulfed in a wild, impulsive hug that knocked Terra's own hood back and made Flame feel as if her ribs were being crushed. She could feel tears on her cheeks and wasn't sure if they were Terra's or her own.

"Farewell," choked out Terra, fighting back sobs. "Go with Selene, sister…and give him hell."

"Go with Selene always, Verity," Flame said as she returned the hug, deliberately using her friend's former name, the name she had given up when she entered the temple. Goading the other warlord might be the last choice bit of amusement she would have, and so she was determined to make the most of it.

As she turned around and started down the stairs, she chanced a glance at warrior in blue and felt a certain smug satisfaction. His midnight eyes burned as they stared beyond her to her proud sister who stood so close, yet beyond his reach.

The second her feet hit the bottom-most step, Flame felt herself being yanked up onto the blond man's horse. For the second time she mentally called him a bastard, recognizing the fierce black beast as her deceased father's prized stallion. She found herself face to grinning face with the man who had turned her ordered life upside down. The look of gloating satisfaction he wore made her want to hit him, so she tightly clenched her fists together to control the violent urge as he pulled her to sit before him, between well-muscled thighs.

"You swore to release the priest," she bit out, working on sheer nerve at that point.

If it was possible, his grin widened. "So I did."

He barked a command to the soldier who held the captive. "Release the old man!" Thinking better of it, he shot a quick look at the soldier and clarified. "Carefully."

With a quick swipe of a blade the ropes that bound the feeble priest, a distant but much loved relative of the princess, were slashed and he slumped to the ground, too fatigued from his ordeal to even lift his bald head, let alone stand. Terra snarled, but dared not go to him while the mahogany-haired warrior lurked nearby. Flame let out an anguished cry, that was cut off as the general who held her yelled another command to his troops and they wheeled about to leave.

Only the Dragon General remained, glaring up at his wayward green-eyed vixen. "If you dare, at any time during the rest of your days, to again set one toe outside that antechamber door I will have you." he warned her grimly, "And I will have you, Princess. Count on it."

Terra's chestnut hair, spilling loosely around the shoulders of her unadorned robes, danced in the breeze as she simply turned away, her voice trailing back over her shoulder as she retorted boldly. "Not in this lifetime, General."

The Dragon General snarled as he kicked his horse viciously and thundered away toward his own echoing, empty castle in the eastern lands.

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The Phoenix General set a swifter pace on the ride south. He had plans for the princess, but had no intention of putting on a show for his rough soldiers. Still, he was more than pleased as he eyed her. Even with the hateful look on her face, which was born of mood, not her native features, she was exceptionally beautiful.

"You've led me a merry dance," he informed her, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it.

"I certainly tried," she retorted hotly before turning her head away and staring glumly at the horizon.

They had ridden in silence for some time when, without warning, she moved abruptly, reaching for the hood of her cloak. He caught hold of her wrist and she let out a yelp, holding onto the horse's mane for dear life as it danced nervously. "What are you doing?" she snapped without thinking.

He shot her a narrow-eyed look. She'd never realized that cool ultramarine eyes could look so heated when they were angry. "I could say the same, Princess. Were you going somewhere or planning something I should know about?"

Her face turned red with temper and she glared at him. "I was merely attempting to pull up my hood and cover my face so that I do not get burnt to a cinder by the sun, you stupid fool. Unlike yourself and your men, I am not brown as a nut. I prefer my skin fair and supple rather than reddened and tight and sore."

The barbarian warlord glared right back. "You had best learn your place, Princess, if you intend to not suffer upon your return home. I rule now, and I will rule my household. However, wear your hood until we arrive. I will not have it said that I tortured women," he growled, eyeing her ivory skin as if it was personally designed to annoy him rather than entice him. Actually it was doing both. "But do not think your precious maiden goddess's acolyte's cloak will protect you much longer."

As if to underscore his point, he dropped her wrist, gliding his hand up shockingly high on her thigh. Flame sucked in a breath. "Bastard!"

"Finally right, Princess. That precious cloak of purity you wear will be burned at the castle, first thing. I vow, if it would not result in outright revolt by the populace, that blasted temple would be razed until it was no more than a heap of rubble, and your precious friend Verity would have no place to hide." His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. "However, I have faith it will happen eventually. The Dragon General is not a patient man and he wants her badly."

Flame smiled tightly. "I fear you've not heard all of my secret talents, sirrah." Her tone was contemptuous as she continued. "Aside from a gift for disappearing, my maternal line has the gift of the seers and I have witnessed visions of the future. I gift you now with a glimpse few ever get. Selene will endure, for she is eternal…and the Dragon will never have Terra. So sorry to disappoint you."

With that parting shot, she yanked up her hood, effectively shielding herself from his heated looks, if not from his touches.

He had shown no qualms whatsoever about touching her, laughing when she swatted at his naughty hands and loudly denounced him as a whoreson and a pervert. "Princess," the scoundrel had simply whispered for her ears only, "you'd better get used to this."

The fact that she was, in spite of herself, tempted by his too-familiar touch frightened Flame more than she could have expressed.

She was near to exhaustion when they arrived at the southern castle. Yet not once had she given in to her body's demands to relax against him for support. She had remained rigidly upright, touching as little of him as she could get away with while pure stubbornness keeping her going

It was very, very late…or perhaps very early, rather, as their mounts clopped beneath the portcullis and into the central courtyard. Flame blinked owlishly as she looked around. It seemed like an eternity since she'd last been there and yet, the place seemed hardly changed.

When they came to a stop the Phoenix General dismounted, then slid her off before him, letting her body brush against every inch of his until her feet touched the ground. She fought nearly overwhelming urge to kick him, realizing it would only hurt her sandaled feet.

A groom rushed forward to take his horse and Flame bit her lip as she saw first the shocked recognition and then the pity in the old man's rheumy eyes. He had put her on her first horse when she was but a girl and he knew exactly why she was here now.

"Your highness," he simply said, bobbing his head before bowing to the general and leading the horse away.

The general scowled, realizing for the first time what effect the princess' presence would have on the inhabitants of the castle. Thought of it made him inclined to be snappish and ill-tempered. Imperiously, he snatched up a torch, pointing with it to a spot on the cobblestones where a pile of old dry straw lay. "The cloak, milady. Now."

Gritting her teeth, Flame slid off the virginal white wrap and deposited it where he indicated, though she shivered in the cool night air. The rest of her light temple robes provided little enough warmth.

Flames were licking merrily up the cape as he prodded her upstairs, finally resorting to scooping her off her feet and carrying her when she did not move fast enough to suit him. He set her down only when they reached the lord's chamber, shooting home the heavy door's bolts. He was pleased to see that one lock was set high enough that the petite princess couldn't reach it, making escape impossible. She would stay where she was supposed to.

There was food and wine, but they were both so tired that neither even dreamed of partaking. With a gentleness that shocked her, he gave her a very slight shove toward the bed. "Disrobe and get in."

When her face went white, he shook his head. "Not tonight, princess. You are exhausted and saddle sore. Just take off your things so I can assure myself you hold no weapons and go to sleep. I shall do the same."

Hectic color flooded Flame's cheeks and she slipped off the light robes in a flash, darting beneath the heavy quilt and yanking it up to her chin. When he slid in next to her and tugged her bare body against his, she groaned, mentally dredging up every curse she could think of, silently raining them down on his head in the dark. Before she finished, though, dreamless sleep claimed her.

The sun was high when Flame awoke to the sounds of a knock at the door. Heedless of the fact that he was entirely naked, the Phoenix General answered, taking a bucket of warm water and a tray of food from a blushing maidservant before re-bolting the door with a gruff command to not return until called for.

Flame sunk lower into the bedclothes praying that Selene would strike one of them down before he realized she was awake. But the goddess was either not with her or, more likely, was not that type of goddess.

"Enough of playing possum, Princess." He loomed over her. When she chanced a peek, she was relieved to see he'd at least put on his trousers, though he was still quite bare-chested. "Even though your hair looks most lovely spread across my pillows, we've slept quite well enough by now. Bathe and then I will feed you."

Feed her…as if she was a mewling, helpless babe. It was beyond humiliating. At her impatient look, he merely smiled, saying, "I'm not fool enough to put anything sharper than a bread trencher in your hands, milady. I feed you or you go hungry, but it will be your choice."

Fuming, especially when he refused to look away, Flame hurried through her bath and slid into the light day dress which he had somewhere found for her. She let out a stifled squeal as he caught her about the waist, pulling her onto his lap and she blistered his ears for it, which seemed to amuse him, especially when he ended it by pressing a glass of morning ale to her lips and she was forced to either drink the stuff or drown in it.

"Bastard," she hissed, when he removed the cup.

His brows shot up so far they nearly disappeared beneath his golden bangs. "My dear princess, such charming words. You repeat them so often that I believe they must be an endearment in this country. Such an odd custom. But as such, I will treasure them always."

Flame nearly choked on her fury.

A wickedly mischievous look twisted his features as he cupped her cheek in his hand. "Why so wroth, my sweet? Are you not glad to be home? I am."

"This is not your home," Flame snapped, giving into her worst nature and slapping him across the face hard, "and it never will be, damn you!"

His arms tightened around her nearly to the point of pain. His face, the print of her hand livid on his cheekbone, was scant inches from her as he coldly spoke. "MY lands. MY home. And now, MY princess." And with that, his lips closed over hers in a kiss that was part punishment, part ravishment, and all seduction.

Her senses spun as his lips played over hers, demanding a response. But when he pulled away, grinning lazily, shame flooded through her. She ripped herself from his grasp and stumbled back out of reach, glowering at him.

He was so smug. So disgustingly confident that he could seduce her into forgetting what he had done. But she would not forget and she would not be used by him or any man.

"You may temporarily have the lands and the castle, sir," she informed him, "but you will never, EVER have me."

His chuckle was like the lash of a whip on her raw nerves. "Oh, I think I will. And after that kiss," he brushed his fingertips across his lips, as if savoring the memory, before continuing, "I think it will be a mutual pleasure." Tauntingly he predicted, "I'm going to tie you to me mind, body and soul, little princess. So tightly you'll never be free. And you'll enjoy it."

The raven-haired princess growled audibly, infuriated that she could still taste the bastard on her lips. "Over my dead body!"

It was all the warning he would get.

Before he could move, she snatched the harmless-looking pendant from around her neck, snapping the decorative seal and swallowing the contents. He leapt to his feet and snatched the trinket, hurling it away, but it was too late.

"What have you done?" he howled, grabbing her. His fingers bit painfully into her shoulders as he shook her like a child's rag doll. "Damn you! What did you take?!"

She laughed then, the sound pealing out like church bells. "Poison, of course."

"Dammit! Why?!"

At his look of horror, Flame laughed again, lifting her hands. "I said I would come to you, but I never promised to stay. You won't use me. No one uses me. Keep the lands if you can…they're nothing compared to my freedom."

Challengingly, she eyed him and invoked her power. Before his shocked gaze, the violet of her eyes seemed to bleed to a doomed, burning crimson. Flames leapt up in her palms. He could feel the scorching heat and staggered back. Abruptly she hurled the twin fireballs at the bed. The down-filled mattress and filmy bed curtains flared up in an instant, then the wild flame began climbing up the wall and spreading out over the paneled ceiling. Supremely confident, she gazed at him serenely, her eyes reverting back to smoky amethyst.

Giving an encompassing wave of her hand, she observed, "If you wish to save YOUR lands and YOUR home, my general, you'd best hurry, I think, before they are consumed in MY inferno. Of course if you cannot, then perhaps they were never meant to be yours in the first place, as I never was."

"Curse you, witch!" he bellowed in impotent fury, shouting an alarm before racing to her side as she collapsed, the effects of her friend's herbal potion beginning to take painful effect, dulling the fire in her eyes. Heedless of the fact that the chamber was almost fully engulfed, he cradled her against his chest, ignoring the choking smoke and hungry flames and the searing intense heat that blistered his flesh.

"No, the curse is yours, Phoenix General," Flame murmured faintly, as her expressive eyes closed for the last time. "For whatever else befalls you in life, whenever you see a flame, however small, you will be cursed to recall that this once you lost…and you…will forever…remember me."


	6. Flame Forgotten

The prophecy would be hers by day's end…or she'd know the reason why.

"I am fire…fire is light. I am fire…fire is sight. I am fire…"

The Aresian priestess bent over her blazing flames chanting the mantra over and over again as she attempted to make contact with furnace-like molten core of her planet. Smoky incense filled the temple its hot, spicy scent. Rippling, shimmering heat surrounded her, and she was dripping wet, covered all over with a thin film of sweat from her exertion. Her stainless robes clung moistly. But finally though, as the sun slipped over the edge of the horizon and night fell, she leaned back on an elbow with a sigh and mopped her brow, giving it up as a bad job. She'd been getting nowhere…slowly.

A seer needed focus and she just couldn't martial the necessary concentration, as her thoughts kept drifting away to him. Was he safe? Was he well? Perhaps, she thought hopefully, he was thinking of her even then, as he'd promised to do. He'd return, wouldn't he? Well why wouldn't he? Ares knew he'd been persistent enough in his pursuit from the very start. He wouldn't accept her no, even when it had literally slapped him in the face. He'd just regrouped and returned.

In spite of her exhaustion, the memory made her chuckle faintly as she recalled the scene.

"You'll favor me with a dance, milady Mars."

The presumptuous bastard!

This time it wasn't a request, but a fait accompli as the handsome blond general of Terra was already arrogantly tugging her out across the crowded ballroom floor even though she'd already said no to that dance before, turning him away after judging him the sort of libertine who obviously had a girl in every port…or on every planet.

She had made it quite clear that first time he'd asked that she had no intention of being his latest dalliance. She was a princess and a priestess, not a plaything to share his bed. She'd even refused to share so much as a minuet with him then. But suddenly faced with the prospect of either dancing or standing in the middle of the floor looking ridiculous, she danced, but she wasn't happy about it.

Smoky violet eyes glared up at him as they'd spun across the floor and out onto the terrace in a twirl of crimson skirts and a swirl of his cape. A faint waltz could be heard, the sound seeping through the open door into the night air, but they were quite alone.

"Are you drunk? How dare you, sir?" she demanded as they continued to pretend to dance. "I believe I'd already made my feelings toward you quite clear."

Just barely visible on his tanned cheekbone was the faint red handprint, evidence of his previous insistence in the face of denial, serving to underscore her point.

Wicked laughter lit his pale aquamarine eyes, turning them the color of warm Neptunian sea spray. "You did indeed, fair princess. However I've always found that luck follows the virtuous and the bold. I've always been exceptionally lucky," he said with a mocking chuckle just before he swooped her backward in a low dip that had her letting out a muffled shriek and clinging to his shoulders least she fall. He'd chuckled and then captured her lips with his own, kissing her until they went up in flames.

The man had taken full advantage of the circumstance he'd created, exploring her mouth with lingering thoroughness while she was trapped in his embrace. When he finally released her, they'd both been breathless…and she was livid.

"The only thing that I'm intoxicated on is the taste of you, little Firebird. You're like a mulled burgundy. Rich and spicy sweet and heady."

"Bold you must be, Lord Jadeite," she'd gasped angrily, tearing herself from his arms, "because for a certainty you are _not_ virtuous!" She'd decorated his other cheek with another stinging slap before spinning on her heel and fleeing with an almost unseemly haste. His delighted laughter and the buzz of the court gossips had poured salt on her wounded pride. Still, she couldn't forget that kiss and the effect it had had on her. No man had ever before tapped the fire in her.

That night had been the first time he had called her his Firebird. It would not be the last.

He'd pursued her shamelessly, undeterred by her protests. Even when she'd threatened him with a taste of her planet's power, he had remained firm him his resolve to win her. He had also commented, while quite openly ogling her long legs, that whoever had designed her senshi fuku ensemble and heels had just earned his eternal regard and undying gratitude.

She hadn't been amused. Her screamed oaths and a burst of flash fire chased him out of her wing of the palace, though he returned the very next day sporting a rakish grin and with his golden hair just slightly shorter due to singeing.

And somewhere in between the incessant arguments and threats of bodily injury, something about the infuriating Terran changed. She could not have said at what point his loathsome arrogance became intriguing confidence, nor when his presence became something to be anticipated and savored rather than dreaded and endured. But somehow he touched the woman's heart that she had locked away and claimed it for his own. Yet just when things looked their brightest, the tidings of war had come, threatening to destroy everything and everyone they held dear.

He was securing his trunk when she finally arrived, having been ordered by no less than Serenity herself to go to him. She'd have sooner let her ravens gouge out her eyes.

"So this is it then? You're leaving for Terra."

"Within the hour," he'd said, his face uncharacteristically sober. "I feared I wouldn't have the chance to say goodbye, princess, you took so long in coming."

It was what she'd feared all along. "Don't bother," she snapped crossly. "We knew that you wouldn't…couldn't…" Her voice trailed off and she looked away, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said and still salvage her pride. Whatever happened, she would NOT cry.

He smiled, brushing her soft, flushed cheek with his hand. "I'm glad you came. There are two Terran customs I would share with you before I go."

She'd been instantly furious, her face flushing as she'd opened her mouth to blast him. Why would he think she'd care one whit about silly cultural rituals at a moment like this? Just because she was a priestess? Fool! Dolt!

He, however, had stopped her outburst before it began, placing a finger over her lips and holding up his other hand for silence.

"First," he'd informed her. "We believe that the best way to not forget something is to tie a string around our finger to remind us. Second…" he paused a moment and fished an item out of his jacket pocket to dangle something red and braided before her eyes. "In the East we believe in a red thread of destiny that connects two souls so that no matter what may befall them, no matter what twists of fate come their way, this thread will ultimately bring those two souls and their hearts together." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "This silken cord is a thousand red threads at least, and stronger than steel."

He caught up her hand and tied the soft, claret-colored cord in a bow around her ring finger, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to the fabric ring.

He then flashed her that confident, faintly roguish smirk that had somehow come to intrigue rather than annoy her. "And when I return I'll replace that cord with a gold wedding band, my dear."

"Oh you will, will you?" she'd retorted crisply, though she couldn't keep the delighted smile off her face, nor remove the radiant amethyst sparkle from her eyes. "Funny. I don't recall you asking for my hand, Lord Jadeite."

"Now why would I do something foolish like that, princess? When have I ever?" he'd asked, tipping up her chin with one hand and cradling it in his broad palm. "That might just give you a chance to say no or some such other dodge, and that I won't give you. No, I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm simply telling you, that when I return we'll be wed and I'll accept no other outcome. So you'd best do your part"

He pressed an identical scarlet cord into her hand, spreading wide his fingers so that she could knot a similar bow around his finger. She did so blindly, never taking her gaze from his, and as it tightened, he winked at her. "A perfect fit."

"Wearing this, how could I forget you, my lovely Firebird? By your sacred flame, from the moment we met I knew I couldn't forget you if I tried. And you won't forget me either, Firebird." His gaze burned into hers like an intense blue flame as he vowed, "I'll return for you. I swear it!"

They shared just one final kiss for luck and for love and then he'd been gone. Now all she could do was wait and pray.

She'd been praying for six months. At first messages had been frequent and news had been good. The forces of the Terran King, Endymion the first, had been making real progress, or so it seemed. But slowly the flow of news had dwindled until it was a mere trickle, not nearly enough to allow anyone at the Moon Palace to know what was really going on below on Earth. Then contact had ceased altogether.

The waiting was nerve wracking and so Queen Serenity attempted to allow her people to put aside their cares while they could by throwing masque after masque in an attempt to amuse them. The Aresian princess, however, cared nothing for such diversions. The only place in which she found solace was in her temple, surrounded by her flames.

Well…that wasn't her only solace. A wistful smile curved her lips as she eyed the little crimson silk ring which sat on a table nearby where she always put it when she used the fire. There it was safe from any stray ember that might threaten it. It was the only time the token left her finger.

Sitting up, she reached out to begin banking the fire, as was her custom. Suddenly the doors to the temple blew open and a gust of icy cold air rushed in, causing the fine hairs on the back of the princess' neck to prickle with the chill. The sacred fire guttered and threatened to die.

And the feather light ring was caught in an updraft, dancing merrily through the air.

A cry burst from her throat as she reached for it. It seemed to just kiss her fingertips before fluttering out of reach. Then that malevolent wind blew it into the blue-white heart of the flame itself.

In an instant it was gone, nothing more than a memory and curling ash which pitted and fell away amid the embers. Even so, she lunged at the fire trying to save it. It couldn't be gone! But it was.

"No!" The denial was ripped from her lips as she leaned over the fire.

Without warning the flames exploded and so did the vision they brought.

Unprepared as she was, the horrific vision of red death washed over her in an unceasing torrent of blood. A hammer blow of pain exploded in her skull. Flames danced over her skin as they seared her nerve endings. And over it all pair of serpentine amber eyes watched maliciously until, mercifully, the icy blackness of oblivion took her.

"Arianna! Arianna! Wake up!" She could feel herself being shaken violently, but she could see nothing but inky, oppressive blackness, as if she was caught inside a chimney. How long had she been unconscious? A minute? An hour? A day? A week? There was no way to know.

"Cupid's crossbow! She's fainted! And look at those blisters, Artemis…she's burned herself too. Badly. Somebody call the healer and the Mercurian princess! Now go! Hurry!"

Dimly she heard a voice she knew to be that of the heir to the Venusian throne snapping out orders to servants and she could hear the Moon's own princess weeping hysterically over her. Slowly the darkness receded like a tide going out and she found herself gazing into compassionate azure lunar eyes that were so like his.

"Are you hurt? What happened to you Mars?! Please talk to us!"

"Jade…he…doesn't…" The words stuck and died in her parched throat for she'd inhaled far too much smoke. A medicinal goblet of cognac was brought and forced between her lips, the powerful liquid burning its way down her throat. She gagged and coughed, forcing the cup away, where it fell from helping hands to shatter on the stone floor. Before her eyes the brandy's golden color began to change until the pooled liquid was scarlet as blood, staining her robes.

The Aresian princess remembered the nightmarish vision a split second before her stomach revolted, leaving her vomiting sourly on the floor. A glance at the empty smoke blackened and ash smeared cauldron which should have held the sacred flame told her all she needed to know. She'd been given her sign. And over and over she heard the pounding refrain beating against her skull.

'He doesn't remember me…'


End file.
